


Dark Omens III

by The_Magic_Rat



Series: Dark Omens [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, insects in inappropriate attire.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Magic_Rat/pseuds/The_Magic_Rat
Summary: Gabriel is appointed Buggy-Sitter, Hastur faces off with Aziraphale, and something wicked this way comes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Dark Omens [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720435
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	Dark Omens III

**Author's Note:**

> If you are curious about mithridate and how to make it, you can find all you need to know here - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mithridate

_****_

Good Omens – Dark Omens Pt. III

Author: The Magic Rat  
Rating: PG  
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale, Gabriel/Beelzebub.  
Warnings: Flies.  
Word Count: 3139

Website – Ex Libris: http://www.winter-wood.net/ex-libris/index.html  
Live Journal: http://delaese.livejournal.com/profile

Disclaimer: All Good Omens characters, places and situations are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and are used without permission and without intent of plagiarism or profit. Copyright for all stories and original characters is with the author, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

Summary: Gabriel is appointed Buggy-Sitter, Hastur faces off with Aziraphale, and something wicked this way comes.

Author’s notes: If you are curious about mithridate and how to make it, you can find all you need to know here - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mithridate

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were all in Aziraphale's bedroom, which was a very strange place for Gabriel to be. He would have rather been in his own place in Heaven, but Michael and Beelzebub were both in firm agreement that he was to stay here. Likely they were afraid another lover would show up. Sandalphon, however, had transferred to another office and refused to speak to Gabriel. 

Gabriel had been genuinely distraught over the matter, but those around him had no sympathy for his pain, and were siding with Sandalphon, specifically because Sandalphon was rather unpleasant and mostly friendless; the relationship was likely everything to the rotten little hench-angel. The betrayal must have been shattering. 

Gabriel glanced over at Aziraphale and Crowley, sitting contentedly together in bed like any couple that have been married since the dawn of time. Aziraphale was focused on an ancient book containing an extensive list of ingredients that would hopefully stop the poison destroying Gabriel's body. 

Crowley had a fashion magazine. 

After a little while, Crowley set aside the magazine, eased out of bed, and limped slowly toward the bathroom, just in time for Hastur to show up and give Beelzebub an update on the bramble wall bordering Hell. The Prince of Hell was lounging on Gabriel’s bed, giant fly roaming about and getting into mischief. So far, so good, Hastur reported. The wall was holding. Then he, Beelzebub, and Gabriel watched Crowley creak his way to the bathroom, clearly still not well. After a few minutes, Aziraphale noticed his companion was gone, set aside his book, and picked up the fashion magazine. His blue eyes became enormous at what he saw on the page, and he looked to the bathroom.

"Crowley!" His voice was slightly frantic.

"Wot?"

"NO!"

"No what?" Crowley inquired.

"I forbid it!"

The demon peered out of the bathroom, eyes large. "You forbid it?!"

Gabriel, Hastur, and Beelzebub watched in silence. Aziraphale managed to get out of bed and toddle to the bathroom as Crowley withdrew. Aziraphale followed him in, and the three listened to the ensuing conversation. 

"Don't do it!"

"It's out of my hands, angel, the fashion gods have spoken."

"And if Vidal Sassoon jumped off a bridge then I suppose you would too."

"Well considering he's dead he probably won't be leaping off any bridges."

"Crowley...please don't cut your hair."

"But..."

"Please don't, you have the most beautiful hair, I love your hair!"

"But it's not..."

"Anthony J. Crowley if you give yourself a buzz-cut I shall....DO SOMETHING! And I am not quite certain what that may be!"

There was sputtering and giggling that implied neither was taking himself too seriously. Then Crowley spoke again.

"And what would you like?"

"I liked your long hair, it was so lovely, you look so beautiful with longer hair."

"Longer? How long?"

"When you would pin in back in that sort of pony-tail."

"We're not resurrecting the man-bun, angel."

"No of course not. But about that length."

"Like this?"

The two demons and one archangel listened, heads cocked, expressions varied, as the pair negotiated Crowley's hair length.

"Oh yes, just like that!"

"Longer, maybe?"

Aziraphale sounded a bit wary. "That could be nice..."

"Let's go Full Hippie."

Aziraphale made a most un-angelic screech of some sort. "Crowley!"

"Come on, angel, it's 1969 and we're at Woodstock, baby!"

"Oh you're silly."

"Dance with me."

The music that started up was 'Dancing in the Moonlight' by King Harvest, but the voice was Crowley's.

_"We like our fun and we never fight.  
You can't dance and stay uptight  
It's a supernatural delight.  
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight._

_Dancing in the moonlight,  
Everybody's feeling warm and bright.  
It's such a fine and natural sight,  
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight..."_

"You two are making me want to puke," said Hastur.

"You're perfectly free to drag your dead archangel someplace else," said Crowley.

"I'm not dead," said Gabriel. 

"It's so sad," said Aziraphale. "It's as if I can hear his voice."

"There, there, angel," said Crowley. "He's gone to a better place."

"I am not dead!" insisted Gabriel.

"Well we can always hope, can't we?" said Crowley. Then, to Aziraphale; "All right I have to get back to bed before I fall apart."

The pair left the bathroom, Crowley's hair now at an angel-approved length. Hastur stared at him with a loathing that made the room colder. Crowley huffed out a steaming breath.

"Oh look, we're in a remake of The Exorcist."

"Murdering traitor," Hastur growled. 

"You are all perfectly free to leave," said Aziraphale. "This is my home, not one of you was invited, and if you think I will not miracle up enough holy water to fill up a swimming pool, you are very much mistaken."

Hastur was not daunted by Aziraphale, if indeed he even heard him. He began advancing on Crowley, but was stopped cold by Aziraphale holding Crowley's plant-mister and aiming it square at Hastur's face. 

"DO NOT TEST ME, MONSTER!"

"I should burn you," Hastur growled. 

"Hastur," said Beelzebub, rising off the bed. "Let's go. We have work to do."

Hastur slowly turned his head to look at Beelzebub. "I thought your job was servicing your new master."

Crowley hid behind Aziraphale, who decided that was his cue that they should get back in bed and shut up. They did so, as the Prince of Hell and Duke of Hell squared off. Even Gabriel was quiet as Beelzebub stared down Hastur.

"You dare insult me?" queried Beelzebub.

"We wouldn't have been invaded if you had been in Hell instead of in that pigeon's nest."

Beelzebub stared coldly. "I wonder if you comprehend how replaceable you are?"

Hastur stared in return, but after a few moments, backed down. Beelzebub looked to Gabriel. 

"I'll be back. Try not to have sex with anybody."

Beelzebub handed Gabe the fly, then departed with Hastur. Gabriel sighed and placed the fly down on the bed, and watched the thing wander around, poking at the covers with its tongue. In an attempt to ease the atmosphere in the room, Aziraphale asked a question.

"What's the fly's name?"

Gabriel sighed heavily. "Beelzebug."

"Oh. That's...sort of...cute."

"No it's not," said Crowley.

"No it's not," agreed Gabriel, watching the fly. 

The enormous insect wandered about, poking at things. Then it turned and scooted straight up the covers to stand on Gabriel's sternum. The fly stared at the angel. The angel stared at the fly. In the distance, a bar from the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly played.

"I know what you're thinking," said Gabriel. "Don't do it."

They stared each other down, then suddenly the fly lunged, using its tongue to poke fast as a jackhammer at Gabriel's face. Sputtering, the archangel grabbed it. 

"Why are you obsessed with poking at my face?!"

The fly buzzed briefly. Gabriel lightly tossed it onto Aziraphale's bed. 

"Here, you entertain the little nuisance for a while."

Aziraphale watched the fly roam around the bed. Then a thought occurred to him.

"You are bug-sitting for a Prince of Hell."

"I am not."

You are," said Crowley, watching the fly. 

"I am not, I'm just...keeping an eye on it."

Crowley was not convinced. "What does the average buggy-sitter make an hour?"

"I am NOT the buggy-sitter!"

"Well you must be, there's the buggy."

"It is NOT a "buggy", it is a demonic familiar."

Aziraphale picked up the enormous and not-terribly-intelligent-looking insect, looking into the faceted eyes. "Are you a familiar? Or a buggy?"

The fly buzzed briefly. 

"Yes you are a cute little buggy, aren't you? Would the buggy like a bath and some honey?"

The fly buzzed. As Aziraphale began easing himself out of the bed to take the fly to the bathroom for a bath, Gabriel was ready to tear out his hair.

"It is not a pet and it does not need a bath!"

"You're just annoyed because my angel is a better buggy-sitter than you are," said Crowley.

"You're both bonkers and you deserve each other!"

Crowley looked toward the bathroom. “You hear that, angel? Gabriel just gave us his blessing.”

“That was very nice of him! Perhaps we should invite him to the wedding.”

“No please don’t,” moaned Gabriel. Crowley grinned.

“We should definitely invite him to the wedding.”

“I hate the both of you.”

Aziraphale bathed the fly, then came out of the bathroom with it dried and fluffed with a pink bow carefully tied around its neck. He set the fly down on his bed, then took out his phone as it began to ring.

“Oh dear it’s Father Jacob. I forgot all about him. He’s bringing by an extremely old Bible for me to restore.”

“Gutenberg?” inquired Crowley.

“Older.” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he smiled as he pulled on his robe. “It’s believed to be one of the most complete predecessors to our modern Bible.”

Robe tied, slippers on, Aziraphale carefully walked downstairs to let Father Jacob into the shop. Crowley yawned, turned into a snake, and began slithering after his angel.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Father Jacob had been in this shop a number of times over the years, but he never liked the place. For one thing, the main reason he became a priest years ago was because he had a pretty good nose for the angelic and demonic both. He liked Aziraphale a great deal, because there was something sweet and holy about him. On the other hand, he was reasonably sure that the fussy little man’s lanky boyfriend was straight from Lucifer himself. He had tried several times to convince Aziraphale to dump the weird, skinny, somewhat hostile man, but Aziraphale simply reminded him that it was not anyone’s place to judge Crowley but God. That may be true, but Father Jacob was sure there was something nasty about Crowley.

The old priest happened to look up, and saw an enormous black and red snake in the rafters of the shop, dangling from one of the ceiling beams. The snake stared back as Aziraphale accepted the book from the priest.

“Is that real?” the priest asked.

The snake flicked out its tongue.

“Oh yes he’s quite real,” said Aziraphale, carefully handling the book with cotton gloves. “Now let’s see what you have here…”

“Is it a pet?”

“He is a companion.” Aziraphale examined the ancient Bible, hand-written, hand-illuminated, in extremely fragile condition. “Well, I can restore it, but it will take some time…”

The snake was slowly lowering itself from the beam, hanging before the priest, tongue flicking in and out. 

“Does this thing bite?” the priest asked nervously.

Aziraphale was in the room, but he may as well have been a thousand miles away, focused on the delicate Bible, studying the damage, pondering how best to repair…

“Mr. Fell!”

Aziraphale glanced up to see Crowley, supported by the tip of his tail around the beam, tongue flicking, before Father Jacob. “Yes, Father?”

The old priest was on the verge of a heart attack as the snake stared at him. “I asked you if this thing bites.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley you’ll fall and you’ll hurt yourself if you… Oh very well, then.”

Father Jacob whimpered as Crowley used him as a ladder to travel to the floor. Once the huge serpent was down, Father Jacob left. Aziraphale was so fixated on the book, he utterly failed to notice. Crowley’s head peeked up over the edge of Aziraphale’s desk, and he poked his nose at the Bible. Aziraphale was already deciding how to best go about the restoration. Crowley stared at the book, then looked up at his angel.

“Is there anything you like more than books?” 

“One thing.”

“What’s that?”

Aziraphale bent to kiss Crowley’s head. “You. Now get upstairs and back into bed, you’re not well.”

“Me more than books? I’m honoured.”

“I love you more than cake, too. Even more than the gavotte. Or sushi!”

Crowley feigned astonishment. “Nooo…. Not that much!”

“It’s true!” Aziraphale assured him as he carefully examined a particularly intricate piece of art. “Even more than…”

“The pair of you are making me want to vomit!” Gabriel called from upstairs. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Such a joy, that angel is.” He gave Crowley a kiss on his snaky snout. “Upstairs and rest. I know you’re bored but you’re not well.”

“I’m bored of not being well.”

Crowley made his way back upstairs and over to the bed, slipping under the covers nose first until at last only the tip of his tail was visible. He listened to Gabriel shift in his bed, clearly not comfortable. Crowley peeked out from under the covers. 

“I do know the formula for mithridate,” said Crowley. “I could make you some while we’re waiting on Michael to locate Asclepius.”

“Will it help? I have to say this is…really rather frightening for me.”

“I can try.”

Gabriel glanced at Crowley. “Why would you want to be kind to me?”

Crowley shifted into his human form, and shook back his long hair, enunciating his reply with a grin on his face.

“Because it fucks with your head.”

Gabriel watched the demon manifest a small table on the bed, along with a flask, a book, and a seemingly endless supply of ingredients. Peering closely at the book, Crowley sorted and mixed and blended the ingredients, then mixed the powder into some honey. He added a spoonful each into two glasses of wine, then brought one glass over to Gabriel. The angel eyed the liquid warily.

“I’ve never eaten or drunk anything before. Never wanted to pollute my body.”

“Well you’ll have to change that. You’ve been on Earth for a couple days now, your corporeal manifestation can starve to death. It’s not a fun way to go. Or…” Crowley sipped his wine. “You could go back up to Heaven and explain why you were defending Hell.”

“I wasn’t defending Hell.” Gabriel sniffed the wine. “If those things overtake the lower levels then they could make their way up to Heaven.”

“So you were defending Hell.”

“Technically yes but that wasn’t the point! You really are evil, you know.”

“And you’re not anywhere near as good as one would assume. Drink your wine.”

Millicent arrived just then, bearing food as always. She set her tray down on a small table, then gasped as she saw Beelzebub’s fly and its pink ribbon.

“You’re so cute!”

“No it’s not,” said Gabriel.

Millicent picked it up. “You are! You’re adorable! Who is a precious buggy?”

“It’s not a buggy!” insisted Gabriel. He downed his wine as if trying not to think too hard about what he was doing. “It’s a demonic familiar!”

“No,” said Millicent, cradling the huge fly as it poked with curiosity at her arm. “It’s a cute little buggy. Who is a cute buggy? You are! Do you know what you need? Sparkles.”

Gabriel watched, utterly gobsmacked, as Millicent casually used a miracle on Beelzebug. The fly was now dressed in a tiny pink sequinned gown, the clear wings festooned with rhinestones. The ribbon was now accompanied by a tiny tiara. Millicent clearly thought the over all effect was unspeakably adorable as she snuggled the massive insect.

“Ooooohhhh, who is the most adorable wee buggy ever?”

The fly buzzed briefly, seeming to enjoy being the center of attention. Crowley slipped into bed to finish his wine. Gabriel, meanwhile, was beginning to look decidedly glazed.

“I feel very odd,” he said. 

“Yes well that’s the funny thing about mithridate,” said Crowley. “Humans take it and don’t feel a thing. Supernaturals like us drink it and end up on our arses.”

“Oh you’re evil,” he said, slurring his words. “So very evil.”

Millicent looked at Crowley, then at Gabriel. “He’s a demon,” she pointed out. “And no one told you to drink all that in one gulp, either.”

“An’ no one tol’ me not to,” slurred Gabriel, who was starting to drool a little. 

Crowley and Millicent watched Gabriel sink down to the mattress. Then Beelzebug escaped Millicent to land on Gabriel. After a moment, Crowley turned into a snake once more, and slithered over to Gabriel. The archangel was on his back, helpless, and facing down both the fly and the serpent.

“I know what the two of you are thinking,” he said. “Don’t do it.”

Gabriel screamed as he was assaulted by fly and snake tongues. Millicent was laughing too hard to act as a rescue party, and downstairs Aziraphale looked up just long enough to decide he wasn’t getting involved. Then he heard Beelzebub’s voice.

“HEY! I said no weird parties unless I was invited!” Pause. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FLY??”

“Mother, your children are all idiots,” said Aziraphale softly, smiling. 

Reluctantly, he closed the book and set it into a locked box for safety before once more going upstairs. He was aware that the room had gone oddly silent, and as he came upstairs, he saw why. Crowley, Millicent, Gabriel and Beelzebub were all staring at a being in the middle of the room. It had the body of a woman, and was dressed in a Roman style toga, wearing an elaborate golden breastplate. But it had no arms and no head. It did however have a massive pair of golden wings, and though the air was still within the room, the fabric of its toga fluttered as if in a strong wind. For a long moment no one moved. Then the creature beat its wings and was gone, vanishing in a puff of golden perfume-scented smoke. 

“What was that?” asked Millicent quietly, her eyes large.

“A Winged Victory,” said Crowley, “sister of the Greek goddess Nike.”

“What’s it doing in my book shop?” asked Aziraphale.

“Same thing centaurs were in Hell,” said Beelzebub. “Something’s waking up, and it wants room to live.”


End file.
